


A Baker Street Valentine

by dozmuffinxc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asexual Sherlock, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2526944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dozmuffinxc/pseuds/dozmuffinxc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for magellyn. She requested something where John chooses not to have sex out of respect for his asexual boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Baker Street Valentine

It had been a long day at the surgery, and John had barely left the exam rooms for more than five minutes since he had clocked in around eight. If he had been more at his leisure, he would undoubtedly have noticed the healthy smattering of red and pink cards at the receptionist’s station and the overabundance of flowers on the desks of almost all of the female doctors (and even a few of the male nurses, as well). As it is, Valentine’s Day had completely slipped his mind, and so it took him quite by surprise when he arrived home to 221B to find the door wide open and a trail of rose petals leading towards Sherlock’s bedroom.

His first thought was that an experiment must have gone horribly wrong. There had been a case a few weeks back with a florist… The lights were off, and the only illumination came from a cluster of garishly-colored candles exuding a mixture of cloying, floral scents. _Perhaps Sherlock had blown a fuse_ , John mused, _and raided Mrs. Hudson’s closet._

There was, however, no justifiable explanation for the unmistakable sound of Marvin Gaye warbling from a stereo in the darkness of Sherlock’s bedroom.

“Sherlock,” John whispered, pushing the door open and hoping that he wouldn’t find anything too terrible on the other side. “Are you… Jesus, Sherlock!”

The sight of Sherlock Holmes, detective extraordinaire, lying atop the duvet in nothing but a bathrobe was enough to put an end to whatever John had been about to ask. 

“Don’t stand there staring, John,” Sherlock said, his eyes unreadable within the darkness of the room.

John stepped into the room, eyes piercing the darkness to make sure that there wasn’t some imminent threat that he had missed. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate the view,” John said finally, leaning awkwardly against the door frame, “but is there a particular reason for…” he gestured vaguely, “this?”

He regretted his words almost immediately. Sherlock folded in on himself, legs pressed against his chest, and the hurt expression in his eyes (visible now in the flickering light of a candle on the bedstead) made John’s chest ache.

“It’s St. Valentine’s Day,” Sherlock said, his tone accusatory. 

“Yes…” John said, searching for something to say that would make the frown on his partner’s face disappear.

“I was under the impression that it was customary for partners to share signs of their affection for one another on St. Valentine's Day. Obviously, if I was mistaken…”

“No,” John said, using the interruption to cross the room and sit gently on the edge of the bed, “no, you weren’t. It’s just… Sherlock, I thought you weren’t interested in sex?”

“I’m not,” Sherlock said; indeed, his antipathy towards the act had been quite clearly outlined in a recent rant during an investigation of a prostitute-turned-drug mule found murdered in the West End. “But you are.”

John was speechless.

“Sherlock,” he said at last. “You don’t have to have sex with me to show me that you care. I know. Really, I do. And I’m touched by all of this, but I know how you feel about intimacy, and I wouldn’t be happy knowing that you were doing something that you hate.”

Sherlock’s narrowed eyes perused John’s face, no doubt searching for a sign that John was lying. In response, John leaned across the bed and laced his fingers into Sherlock’s hair, pulling him close.

“I love you, no matter what. Always have. And if being with you means taking care of my own… needs… well, I still think I’m getting the better end of that deal. Now, c’mere.”

John took Sherlock’s hand in his and pulled the other man down onto the bed. Curling up on his side, he drew Sherlock’s arm over his own body and curved his spine so that he was sheltered bend of Sherlock’s impossibly lanky torso.

Sherlock’s voice in his ear made John shiver with pleasure. It took a moment before the meaning of the words registered in his mind:

“But what shall we do with all the condoms I bought?”

John laughed so hard that the bed shook.

“How many did you buy??”

“I erred on the side of caution.”

“Meaning…?”

“Five boxes.”

It took John fully five minutes to catch his breath from the fit of giggles that followed. Pressing a steadying hand onto his abdomen, he rolled over to face Sherlock whose cheeks were an undeniable shade of pink.

“Tell you what,” John said, whispering conspiratorially with his face pressed close to his partners. “What say we leave a few around the flat, right out in the open. Next time Mycroft pops by…”

Sherlock’s appreciative chuckle vibrated across the mattress, his breath warm on John’s face.

“And the lube,” Sherlock asked, all embarrassment gone from his voice.

“There’s lube?” 

“Of course. I was under the impression that it is a necessity for the comfortable completion of intercourse.”

“All right,” John said, “how many bottles?”

“They had so many different types, John!”

“How many, Sherlock?”

“…and flavors! Did you know they came in flavors? What on earth for?!”

“Sherlock…”

“Ten.”

“I love you,” John said, barely able to fit the words around the expanse of his smile.

“Quite,” Sherlock replied. “Now, roll over.”

John acquiesced, and as soon as he had gotten himself situated beneath the covers, he was pleased to feel the tips of Sherlock’s long, adroit fingers rubbing circles into the small of his back.

 _Not a bad way to spend a Valentine’s Day,_ John thought, and he could have sworn he heard Sherlock hum in agreement.


End file.
